


Always You

by mezzo_cammin



Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-04-02
Updated: 2011-04-02
Packaged: 2017-10-17 11:45:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,292
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/176531
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mezzo_cammin/pseuds/mezzo_cammin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The porny sequel to Reality Check.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Always You

“Beer’s warm,” John said. His fingers tightened around Rodney’s palm and slowly dragged both their hands up the length of John’s cock, just one thin layer of denim between it and them.

Rodney turned his head and bit John’s shoulder.

“That’s a shame,” he said. He pressed the heel of his hand against John’s crotch, smiled when John inhaled sharply. “Warm beer. There’s a rule about that somewhere.”

“Yeah. My rule. Beer gets warm, we go inside.”

“Ah, yes. Sheppard’s rule of warm beer. ‘S a good rule.”

His ass had gotten stiff from sitting on the pier for so long, and he felt the familiar ache in his hip as he stood and held a hand out to John. But there was another ache, one more urgent, that he noticed as John took a moment to stand and shake the soreness out of his muscles. God. He’d waited so long, had worried, needlessly as it turned out, that John was never going to ‘resolve the dissonance’ as Dr. Hayek had predicted would eventually happen. He’d driven himself hard over the last few months, immersed himself in his work, and waited, hoped, for John. Now, he was horny as hell and John was right there, within taking distance. And Rodney's patience? Gone. So very, very gone.

John stretched slowly, putting on a show for him, cocking his hip out, and flexing his biceps while Rodney watched, avid. He stepped forward into John’s space, put one arm behind John’s back, fingers splayed against his lower spine, and placed his other hand on John’s erection, whispered, “This. I want this. You. I want to go down on you, John. I want to taste you, want you in my mouth –"

And then he was talking to nothing but air because John was halfway down the pier, turning and motioning to Rodney to keep up, already. If only John’s physical therapist could see him now, Rodney thought, a little smug. Rodney took a hitching step, adjusted himself so that he could walk without causing himself an injury, and hurried to catch up.

Once inside Rodney’s room, laughing, jostling each other for position, Rodney wasted no time in toeing out of his shoes and pulling John’s shirt over his head, running his palms over the muscles in John’s chest. Now, right now, he needed John's skin, naked and hot under his hands, his mouth. He flicked his thumbs against John’s nipples, took one in his mouth even as his hands were busy unsnapping, unzipping, pushing at John’s pants. The pleasure noises John made spurred him on, had him dropping to his knees and smoothing his hands over John’s thighs, nuzzling John's heavy balls, tasting the musky flavor behind them. He noted the fine muscle tremors, whether from fatigue or nerves he wasn’t sure, but either way, he urged John toward the bed, and pretended it was so he could remove John’s sneakers and get his jeans the rest of the way off.

And that. That was a sight, all right. Rodney’s breath caught in his throat as he rocked back on his heels and simply stared, transfixed, at the way John was spread out for him, legs splayed, cock rising hard and red against his belly, chest heaving with each breath as he leaned up on his elbows to watch Rodney. Rodney had to crawl up that long torso for another taste of John’s mouth. He couldn’t get enough of it, of the way they kissed, the way they fit together, so easy and sure. Rodney felt John’s hands doing some unbuttoning, unzipping, and pushing down of their own now, felt his jeans slide down his hips, and suddenly, the heat of John’s cock was pressed against his, and Rodney groaned. He rose up on his arms so he could look down between their bodies at their cocks, and his mouth watered with a need so fierce it took his breath.

“Oh, yeah, come to papa,” he crooned, as he slid back down John’s body, stopping only for a quick lick of John’s nipples. Later, John would tell him he’d heard Rodney use that exact tone when looking at a fully charged ZPM, and Rodney would blush and get a glint in his eye as he compared the two and found the ZPM lacking. But right now, right now all he wanted was to taste John’s cock, to lick the head of it and suck it inside his mouth, make John surge up off the bed and cry out. He stretched out, got comfortable, and prepared to take his time and make a three-course meal of John’s cock. He licked it from root to tip and swallowed it down, swirling his tongue around the tip and drawing out the precome, and John writhed. He fisted his hand around the base and held it tight as he stroked the underside with the flat of his tongue, and John swore. He nibbled and licked and ran the sweet, sweet head over his lips, breathing on it, while John gasped. He closed his mouth over it and sucked as he bobbed his head up and down, breathing heavily through his nose, and John groaned and thrust, and his lean fingers grabbed on to Rodney’s head as he came, and came. Rodney swallowed and took him deeper and then softer, until he was lapping gently at John’s spent cock, his nose buried in the crease of John’s thigh, and he thought, God, I could do that again, right now. Or his ass. Yeah. That, too. He wanted a taste of that, right _now_.

He felt a tug on his hair, strong hands pulling at his shoulders, urging him up, up, so John could kiss him, whisper incoherent praise against his lips and _Jesus, Rodney, your mouth, what you do to me_ into Rodney’s ear, breath hot and moist, sending goosebumps skittering over Rodney’s skin. John spread his legs and grabbed hold of Rodney’s ass with both hands, rocking him into the cradle of John’s hips. Rodney drove against him, on him, overwhelmed by John’s scent, the hard planes of his body bumping into Rodney’s, the scratching of John’s belly hair against the head of his cock.

Rodney thought, _this_ , yes, your body, yes, yes, _John_ , you, this, Jesus, I want – need –now, now, you, _now_ — Like an answer to a prayer, John’s hand was on his cock, hot, sweaty, perfect, his whispers urging Rodney on– _Yeah, I’ve got you, Rodney, come on, come for me, on me, let it go_ – Rodney swore John’s name as he came apart at the seams, and did as John demanded, splattering John’s belly and chest with his come, letting go, trusting John to catch him and put him back together. Afterward, John raised his hand to his mouth and licked Rodney’s come from his thumb, smacked his lips, and raised his brows. Rodney managed a grin as he slid slowly off to the side, boneless and nerveless.

Eventually, he reached his hand over, nudged, and John’s fingers found his, entwining them. Rodney stared up at the ceiling and listened to John breathe, and thought, _finally_ and _I knew i_ t and _John._

Much, much later, when speech was once again possible and the sweat had cooled on their bodies, Rodney said, “One of us is going to have to get up.”

“Recently injured man, here,” John said, not budging.

Rodney sighed.

“It’s always gonna be me, isn’t it?” he griped as he swung his legs over the bed and felt the sweep of John’s palm down his back. Rodney glanced back and stared, entranced, at the utter contentment on John’s blissed out features.

“Yeah, Rodney,” John said. “It’s always gonna be you.” And he smiled.


End file.
